Unrequited Affections
by duckingbrutal
Summary: After a drunken experience with Pickles, Nathan realizes he might have caught feelings for the drummer. When the two try to fix their friendship, an unexpected person walks in, making things much more complicated.
1. Chapter 1: Stroke Me

"Stroke Me"

It was going to be just the two of them again. Dethklok had just released another album, and the boys were ecstatic. They wouldn't have to work on anything music related for almost an entire year! As was customary, everyone was to go off and celebrate in their own ways for two entire weeks. Skwisgaar was to go to Arizona to get some action from GMILFs, Toki was going to Disney World, Murderface planned on just takin' it easy at a nice country club in California, and Pickles and Nathan were going to do their usual; their "friender bender". Also known as the drinking-around-the-world tour. As for Charles Offdensen, Dethklok's manager, he just needed a good nap away from all five of them.

It was the night before everyone was to leave Mordhaus to start their vacations. Everyone was happy, except for one. Pickles was sitting on the foot of his bed with one leg dangling over the edge and the other drawn up to his chest. He was thinking about something, not very hard, but, still; it was about something important but potentially dangerous. _I need to tell him, but_ - _no, no, I can't do dat. How an earth shood I go aboat tellin' him the truth?_ He sighed deeply. _Shood I even tell him at all? I don't wanna ruin the whole beand. Dethklak has been very good to me, and I can't fook things up. And Nat'an might never see me the same way again._ He looked over to his dresser that had a variety of different shaped bottles on top. Being a heavy drinker, you have to keep your stash of booze out and ready for whatever may occur. One bottle in particular caught his eye; fireball whiskey.

He got up and picked up the bottle of fireball. Potent drink; it even manages to mess him up when he thought he had an immunity to every drink out there. Just like Nathan and tequila, Pickles and fireball wasn't a good combination. He didn't remember the last time he drank it, but apparently it was really bad from what Charles had told him. Hasn't drunk it since. But now, it was starting to look really good, that honey colored liquid that sparked in the lamp light. _I'll just take two shats, dats all. Jest two of 'em will get me tipsy enough to tell him._

Pickles grabbed a shot glass and filled it almost up to the top and slammed it down like it was nothing. The cinnamon sting still lingering in his mouth and throat, he poured another. And another. And _just one more, dis'll be the last one, I pramise._

It almost felt a switch had been flicked in his brain; he could feel himself turning into someone else, something sober Pickles would never be. He knew exactly what he had to do now. His urge must be met.

Nathan was just reclining on his bed, reading a book about medieval torture devices, when Pickles slammed the door open. Nathan jumped and was about to scream that, "Yes, Charles, I remembered to pack my toothbrush, alright?!" when he noticed that it was only Pickles. He took off his reading glasses so he could see more clearly and put them on the nightstand.

"Oh, it's just you. I thought you were Offdensen, 'cause he's been bugging me all day, and-" he noticed that Pickles was not acting like himself at all. The slight drummer was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and one leg crossed. His normally pale face now had a ruddy red shade smattered all over his cheeks and nose. There was a small smirk tugging on one side of his mouth, there almost always was, but right now it didn't seem playful as usual. Nathan thought it looked a little threatening.

The singer tried to not let his concern show. "You know, the trip isn't until tomorrow. So why are you in here? I'm trying to read," he growled.

Pickles' smirk faltered a bit. "Der's somethin' I need to talk to you aboat, and it's important." He sat up and closed the door, and started to walk towards Nathan, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"What is it?" Nathan grunted softly.

Pickles whipped his head to the right to face Nathan, who recoiled. "Dere's been somethin' I've been meanin' to eask you," the drummer slurred as he grabbed Nathan by the shirt collar and pulled him in close. Nathan could smell the alcohol on his breath.

 _This isn't good_ , Nathan thought. "I'm waiting," he said aloud, voice a little shaky. Pickles pulled Nathan towards him even closer until their noses were touching.

"I want you to stroke me," Pickles breathed.

" _Stroke you?_ What the hell do you mean by that?" Nathan asked while raising his eyebrows. "You mean, like, you want me to slap you in the face or something?"

Pickles shoved Nathan down and straddled him, sitting on top of his hips. "Not that kind of stroke, Tanto." He grabbed Nathan's right hand and placed it on his jeans-covered dick. " _Stroke me_ ," he instructed.

"What the hell is this?!" Nathan yelled as he yanked his hand away from Pickles' nether regions.

The drummer giggled. "Dood, that's my dick," he said playfully.

"I know that, you moron. I mean what the hell has gotten into you?" Nathan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to chalk this up to you being drunk. If you get out of here right now, I just might forget this whole thing ever happened," he said.

Pickles narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, stroking his beard in thought. "You know, you're just making dis more difficult, Nat'an. But I guess you're right. I can't just expect you to jack me aff right away," he said, feigning ignorance. He lay down on top of Nathan and put his hand behind his head, stroking the long, black silky hair. With his other hand, he placed it on Nathan's cheek and firmly pressed his lips on his friend's.

As Pickles continued to kiss Nathan, Nathan found himself kissing back, for whatever reason. God, was he confused. Here he was with his best friend, not playing video games, not drinking, not writing music, but making out. _This is so fucking gay, I can't believe I'm doing this. I can push him off at any time, so why aren't I?_

Nathan pushed Pickles away by the shoulders. He could feel the drummer's saliva lingering on his lips. _Fucking gross_. He wiped his mouth on his sheets, then turned to Pickles to yell at him to "get the fuck out before I kill you", but stopped. He looked so...good. His ginger dreadlocks fell about his face and shoulders in such a messy way that was almost cute; for another guy, anyway. Hooded lime green eyes were looking down at him in anticipation.

"What's wrong, Nat'an?"

"It's, erg, nothing…just…just come back here," Nathan muttered. He sat up and threw his arms around Pickles' slender body, tracing his lips with his tongue. _Fuck it, I don't even care anymore_ , he thought as Pickles shoved his own tongue into his mouth. _Nobody better find out about this._

William Murderface was so hyped up at the idea of getting away from the other five assholes that he couldn't sleep. He just stared at the ceiling from his bed. _Maybe I schould walk around a bit and maybe get schome food. Yeah._ He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, and started to head towards the kitchen.

The long, dimly lit hallway was so silent, Murderface swore he could hear a guitar pick drop. He shuffled past everyone's rooms, Pickles', Skwisgaar's, Toki's, and Nathan's…

Nathan's room. The quiet hallway didn't sound so quiet anymore, now that he was nearing it. Murderface was hearing dialogue coming out from under Nathan's locked door. _Intereschting._ He pressed an ear to the door.

"Oh my God…uhhhnnnn…"

 _That'sch Nathan, alright,_ he thought, stifling a laugh. _I wonder whicsch lucky lady he hasch thish time. Thish isch gonna be good._ He sat down, grinning, ear still pressed against the door. Concentrating really hard, but not too hard, he could hear the thick, whiny Wisconsin accent of the mysterious "lady" in the room.

"Nat'an…oh Gad I can't take it anymore…jest stroke me already."

What the everloving fuck?! Murderface scrambled away from the door, repulsed. _Picklesch and Nathan are…no, no, that ischn't right, it'sch not like them…it'sch…REPUGANT!_ He started to imagine things he never ever wanted to imagine, oh God, no, please. But still…

Murderface looked down one side of the hallway, then shifted his gaze towards the other. He rolled his eyes and got comfortable against the door. This was going to take a while.

Meanwhile, Pickles was still straddling Nathan. He pulled away from Nathan's mouth, a string of spit pulling away too. "Yoo heard me, Nat'an. Pay up and quit teasin' me," he said panting. Nathan gulped. He didn't want to actually touch his friend's dick. That was just going too far. Making out was already crossing the line, so this would be even more crossing the line. And if you cross the line too far, well, Nathan knew the friendship would never be the same again. In addition to that, _touching a guy friend's, hrmmm, you-know-what…it's pretty gay_. But it looked like Nathan wasn't going to have a choice.

Pickles unzipped his pants, revealing a tight pair of white briefs. It didn't really leave much to the imagination. _He's circumcised. Hrm. Interesting._ The drummer continued to strip, standing on his knees and pulling down his jeans to mid-thigh. _His thighs,_ Nathan thought. They were so petite, unlike his own. They were so small and cute that he wanted to- _no, shut up. Just get this over with. Don't think about his body again._

Pickles grabbed the waistband to the briefs and cocked his head to the side, beaming. "Are you ready for da big reveal?"

"Let's go already,"

He pulled his underwear down at last. His penis was already as hard as it could get; an incredible feat for being so drunk. But…it was much smaller than he had always let on to everyone else. Nathan was surprised at its lack of length. However, he wasn't disappointed. He felt it was rather fitting. _He's just a small guy overall,_ Nathan figured. _It's so…hrm…cute. Dammit._

His dick was pleasing to the eye. The shaft made up for length in girth; it was a little on the thick side. The small head was already dripping with beads of pre-cum. Nathan took note that the whole "fire crotch" urban legend was true, at least in this case. It was neatly trimmed down to a soft fuzz. He found himself fighting to keep his hands down and stay looking uninterested.

"Hold an," Pickles grunted as he struggled to pull his tank top off. He pulled it up over his head and tossed it carelessly behind him. "Better. Now, what're you waitin' for?" he whispered. He grabbed Nathan's right hand and guided it to his dick. Nathan gripped it.

It was really warm. He started to slowly pump his hand up and down the shaft, applying just the right amount of pressure. Pickles let out a moan and gripped Nathan's thigh. Nathan smirked inside. Of course he knew how to treat a dick; he has one.

Pickles quivered under Nathan's firm strokes. His knees drew up automatically, and his grip on

Nathan's thigh became tighter. As he continued to stroke him, Nathan put his free hand on the drummer's side. He suddenly spit on his hand and started to jack off his friend faster and harder than ever. It caught poor Pickles by surprise.

"NyeeeeeeEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Murderface winced. Dear God, that was loud and obnoxious. That little shit probably woke up all of Mordhaus. The fuck is exactly going on in there? From what Murderface could gather from that screech, Nathan was probably tearing up that poor little guy's butt right now. Time to start the hamburger time preparations. He tried to remember exactly what Pickles had written in his will from the last time he had a death-er, hamburger time-scare. There was something in there about "riding to hell in style"…

"What the hells ams goings on heres?"

Who else was it but Skwisgaar. _Oh, schit_. _Fuck._ He was wearing a wife beater and Swedish flag boxers, and his lanky arms were crossed. Clearly angry. "What was that? You hears it too, right?"

 _"_ Yeah _,"_ Murderface smiled nervously _. "_ He-erm-uh-I meant that noise, woke me up too, scho I, uh, went out to inveschtigate."

Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. "In fronts of Nathan's room? Campings out? I don'ts believes you. Actually…" he sat down next to Murderface, facing him, and started to lean against the door.

"No, you-you don't want to do that," Murderface sputtered. "I'm telling you, Schkwischgaar, don't-aw, geesch..."

The Swede's eyes widened when he heard the squishy sounds of debauchery and moans of pleasure through the door. Murderface squeezed his eyes shut and folded his arms in preparation for the long, reprimanding speech he was anticipating from Skwisgaar. But, to his surprise, Skwisgaar started to snicker.

"I fucking knews it! Toki nows owes me fifty dollars," he said with glee. _What_. Skwisgaar must've seen the shocked expression on the bassist's face, because he said, "Oh comes on, Moiderface, it's so obvious that theys ams in loves. I could sees it in Nathan's eyes whenevers he looks at Pickle."

"B-but-"

"It ams the gaze of _love,_ " Skwisgaar interrupted harshly.

"Probably more like the gasche of luscht…" Murderface muttered under his breath.

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and waved his hand in a patronizing manner. "Whatevers. I cannot expects yous to understand. Yous ams never been hit withs the gaze of love in your life." Murderface glared at him. "Woulds you likes me to reminds you of the contest wes ams had?" Skwisgaar continued.

"That waschn't fair!" Murderface retaliated. "I schtill get laid, jusch not that often, okay?! I mean, jusch lascht week I had thisch lady over, and we-"

"She rans out, screaming. Probably from seeings your nasty dick." Skwisgaar said nonchalantly.

"I PLAY BASCH WITH-"

"Quiet!" Skwisgaar said louder than he intended.

The hallway was silent for a few minutes while the two of them listened.

"Scho…what do you think they're doin' in there?"

"Hands job, definitely."

"Huh…"

"Uhnnn…faster, Nat'an," Pickles breathed. Nathan stroked his friend's dick so fast his hand was almost a blur. Something was telling Nathan to look up. The sight made his heart almost stop.

The ginger's head was thrown back and his eyes were closed in ecstasy, sweat dripping down his still splotchy red face. He was biting his lip so hard there was a small trickle of blood that had ran down his beard and past his chin. Both of Nathan's thighs were held in such a dethgrip from Pickles' hands; he was pretty sure there were going to be nail marks left there for a very long time. As he continued to jerk off his friend, Nathan could feel the tension building inside Pickles' body more and more. That gave him an idea.

He took his hands off Pickles entirely and started to take off his shirt. Pickles opened his eyes and looked up. "Nat'an, what're you doing?" he asked.

"Just shut up before I change my mind," Nathan snarled. He's been shirtless in front of Pickles countless times (in non-sexual settings, of course), but this time he felt really self-conscious. He knew he was fat, but this time he actually cared. _Pickles doesn't like fat chicks, why would he want me?_ he thought. But there was no time to waste thinking about his own body. He took a hair tie off his wrist and put it in his mouth. After gathering his poker straight hair with one hand, he tied it up with the other, putting it all up in a ponytail.

In one swift motion, he yanked Pickles' pants off all the way, leaving him completely naked. Nathan motioned for Pickles to get off of him, and he obeyed. Nathan got up off the bed and pulled the drummer by the legs to the edge of the bed so violently that he fell over, then he sat back up again. Well, it was more like Nathan grabbing his wrist by force to pull him up. _What the hell is Nat'an doing_? he wondered, but dared not to ask.

Nathan sat down on his knees in front of Pickles, and spread Pickles' legs open, grabbing his dick. He drew his face in close, and, with a little hesitation, gently licked the tip. The drummer's body shook. He did it again and again, swirling his tongue around the head.

"Oh, my Gad…Nat'an…"

He traced the entirety of the shaft with his long tongue, starting from the bottom and working his way up. Firm, slow licks, like a popsicle. Every time Nathan reached his frenulum, oh Lord, Pickles quivered and gritted his teeth. What a feeling. His body wanted a release so badly, but Pickles wouldn't let it. He wanted to hold on for as long as he could, until he quite literally couldn't hold back any longer. _This moment, this feeling_ , he thought, _I want it to least forever._

When Nathan's tongue reached the tip once more, he opened his mouth and put the entirety of Pickles' member inside, moving back and forth. He'd never sucked a dick before; Nathan was wondering if he was doing it right. He was trying to remember all the groupie blowjobs he'd gotten over the years, and what kind of freaky things they did with their mouths. But no dice. He was always too drunk to remember anything from before blacking out, so he's on his own for making up a good blowjob.

It seemed to work, though. Pickles felt sweaty and hot, mind almost like an animal's. Nathan was driving him to the point of release faster and faster. The warm, sticky saliva from Nathan's mouth was all over his dick, and it began to drip down his nuts and legs. Each push and pull was so heavenly. Every so often, Nathan would pull away completely, and hold his cock by the base, teasing his frenulum. Brushing against it ever so softly was the tip of Nathan's tongue. Pickles fell forward and dug his nails into Nathan's broad shoulders.

Nathan looked up, dark green eyes meeting lime green ones. The eye contact felt like it lasted for years. Nathan smirked as he continued to tease the area that drove Pickles to the brink of insanity. It was time to finish him off, Nathan figured. He suddenly starting blowing Pickles harder than ever, almost carnivorously, his tongue also gracing the head.

Pickles couldn't hold back anymore; it was just too much.

"Nat'an, I-I'm goin' to…aughhhh!" he moaned as dug his nails into Nathan even more when the orgasm shook his entire body. It started from his penis, and spread out to the rest of him; his legs and toes, hands and the very tips of his fingers. It made his mind feel hazy with the high of sweet release from buildup for so long.

Nathan, however, wasn't so lucky. He could feel the muscles of Pickles' cock contract and release again and again in his hand, and it was kind of hot ( _I REALLY hope I'm still straight after this)_. That meant that… _OH, FUCK ME_. He suddenly realized his mouth was full of warm, gooey semen. Nathan just sat there shocked and started to gag, sperm oozing from his open mouth. Pickles busted out laughing; that was a photo for the yearbook, right there. When Nathan finally came to his senses, he jumped up while covering his mouth to find the nearest trash can or box of tissues or SOMETHING. He ran to the other side of his bed, where he at last remembered he had a garbage can and tried so hard to spit it out, all while dry heaving.

"Oh, God, *cough*, this is so, *gag*, fucking GROSS!" he yelled. "Water, I need water, *pfft* oh my GOD!"

That just made Pickles laugh even harder.

"Shut up, asshole! It's not *gag* funny!"

Murderface covered his mouth with both hands; he felt like he was going to puke any second. Skwisgaar shook his head.

"Someones needs to tell Nathans that it ams not polite to spit it out," he said in disapproval.

"It hurts the person's feelings." Murderface just stared at him. "Whens goils does that to me, I feels like I ams gross too, you know?" Skwisgaar continued.

"Oh Schkwisgaar, juscht schut up…"

"Wait, someones ams coming,"

The Swede's warning was a little too late. The door was yanked open, causing both of them to fall on the floor at Nathan's feet. He just stepped over them and ran to the kitchen so he could rinse out his mouth. The guitarist and the bassist just laid there, dumbfounded.

"You don't thinks he saws us, right?"

Murderface grimaced. "I schure hope not. We're gonna be in schooo much trouble…"

Skwisgaar said, "Well, yous ams here before me, so yous ams really the ones in trouble."

"That makesch no schensch at all, you-"

He looked up to see Nathan standing over him, arms folded over his bare chest, his eyes wide with fury. Nathan darted his eyes from Murderface to Skwisgaar, then back to Murderface, who was holding his arms up.

"Nathan, pleasch don't hurt me-I wasch juscht-"

"Save your excuses!" Nathan roared. The two eavesdroppers cringed. "What all did you hear?! Murderface?"

"….everything," he whimpered.

"Skwisgaar?" Nathan whipped his head to face the blond, who could undoubtedly see the blood vessels in Nathan's huge eyes.

Skwisgaar tried to act calm. "I hears this loud noise, so I goes to checks it out, and Moiderface ams sitting right heres…"

"Go on," Nathan threatened in a low growl.

"…so everythings after that point."

Nathan's left eye started to twitch. This was extremely bad. Two people were going to be murdered tonight, one Swedish guitarist and one white trash bassist; it was just a matter of HOW, the two of them figured. The hallway was silent for a few seconds. Nathan finally just sighed. It was a sigh of defeat and, dare they think, helplessness?

"Just, just get out of here," Nathan said, massaging his temple with one hand, eyes closed.

They-they weren't going to die?

"Just, please," he continued, "don't mention this to anyone. This is very…embarrassing. And-Murderface, what're you looking at?"

"Um, Nathan," Murderface started to say, again putting up both arms to shield his face.

"Hrm?"

"There'sch, uh, cum on your chin…"

Nathan finally came back. Pickles had already put his clothes back on, and was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up from the back of the book Nathan had been reading earlier to see his friend sitting by his side.

"What took you so lang? Pickles asked.

Nathan cracked his knuckles. "Nothing. It was nothing of interest." He pulled out his Dethphone from his back pocket to check the time. "It's, uh, pretty late, you know, so…um…"

"So yer kicking me out?" Pickles prompted sadly. Nathan looked over. _Oh, God, why does he have to make that damn face?_ The drummer was looking straight ahead with narrowed, wet eyes and tight lips. His slender hands were resting on his thighs, but balled into fists. _Please, for the love of all things unholy, don't start crying on me._

Another silence.

"Well," Pickles continued after a bit, "it would look pretty suspicious if I slept in here, yoo know, wit' yoo." He turned to face Nathan with a small, sad smile. "I understeand."

Nathan quickly tried to come up with a response. "Well, there's always the trip. It starts tomorrow. We, uh,-" _Hrm. This is tough._ "-we…there's always that. Drinking for two straight weeks? It'll be fun," he said, trying to make light of the situation.

Pickles jumped up. "I completely forgat aboat that trip!" He pulled out his own Dethphone and did a double take. "Wow, it's pretty fookin' late."

"I know, Pickles, I just told you like-"

He blinked and his friend was already at the door, ready to leave. "I'll see you tomarrow,"

Nathan sprang up and ran to him. "Wait!"

"What?"

"You, hrmm, forgot, uh, something…" Nathan muttered, facing the floor. He brushed some dreadlocks out of Pickles' face and softly kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Pickles," he whispered.

Every member of Dethklok was practically a zombie the next morning at breakfast, for different reasons. Except for Toki. He was always a morning person.

"Hey, Moiderface," the Norwegian asked, "whys ams you have a black eye? And your nose ams looks busted, too."

Murderface rolled his eyes. "Aw, Toki, juscht schut up!" he yelled.

"Is just wants to know whats happened to you. Ams that a crime?" Toki yelled back.

"Yesch, it isch! Plusch, it'sch too early in the fucking morning for talking. Why do you alwaysch try to speak when itsch an ungodly hour?! And, you, Schkwischgaar, why didn't YOU get beaten up, huh?"

Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. "It's because Is was not…you knows!" he stammered.

The three of them started to bicker and complain. Nathan shook his head. Always arguing about something. He looked up at a clock on the kitchen wall. It was almost 8:30 AM, and Pickles still hadn't gotten up yet. Their flight was going to leave in half an hour. Maybe he just didn't want to go anymore after Nathan kissed him on the cheek. You're never, ever, supposed to show that personal of an interest. _I know I jacked him off, but that was only because he asked me to; God, what was I thinking with that blowjob? And that goodnight kiss? Way too intimate. I just ruined our friendship, and the whole band._ _Why did I do that?_ He put an elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand. _It can't be because, because I…like him, like in that way?_

Nathan heard shuffling feet coming closer and closer. It was Pickles. He sat down in the chair next to Nathan, rubbing his eyes. His face had returned to its paper white color, and he seemed to be acting like his normal self. Nathan found himself not even being able to look at him; every time he tried to catch a glance his heart jumped. Pickles looked up at Nathan, and slammed his hands on the table excitedly.

"Are yoo ready or what?" he said with enthusiasm.

Nathan started to pick at his black nail polish. "There's something we need to talk about, before we go,"

"Yeah, I know I woke up a little late, and I'm sarry. I have this terrible hangover,"

"No, that's not it," Nathan sighed, still picking at his nails. "We should probably go somewhere, more private to talk. Not around them," he gestured to Murderface, Skwisgaar, and Toki, who were still arguing.

Nathan took Pickles by the wrist and led him out to the hallway. He sighed and decided to tell his friend the truth.

"Pickles, we've known each other for a very long time, and we've been through a lot together. And after last night, well…do _you_ even remember that at all?"

The drummer nodded. "Bits and pieces, yoo know."

"Okay, I just wanted to, um, clarify that," Nathan continued. "At first I was horrified that you were coming on to me, but as we continued to, uh, do the things that we did…" Pickles raised an eyebrow. "…I think I realized something. Don't take this the wrong way, but, I think I might…hrmmm…have a crush…on…you. Yeah. I said it, I feel better now."

"Oh boy…Nat'an, I have to confess something to you too." _Oh my God, this is it,_ Nathan thought. "The reason I came an to ya is because I was drunk. Aff fireball whiskey."  
 _What the fuck_.

"I gat drunk because I needed some help to tell you something that was bothering me. I completely forgat what it does to me. I was trying to remember why Charles told me to stay away from dat stuff, and now I know why. It, um, makes me extremely horny." He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "The real thing I wanted to tell you, I completely forgat aboat it once I got drunk, and you know what heappened instead, sooo…yeauh…"

Nathan looked a little upset. "So, you don't like me back?"

Pickles started to play with one of his dreadlocks. "I think deat was a one-time only thing, Nat'an," he said. "You're a very good friend, but I don't think I could see us, like, dating, yoo know?"

 _Maybe this is a sign,_ Nathan thought morosely. _At least that notion was nipped quickly before it sprouted too much. God, I really need to stop reading those teenage romance novels._ However, one thing still remained on his mind.

"So, before we leave all of this behind us, there's one more thing I wanted to ask you,"

"Yes?"

"What exactly _were_ you going to confess to me, and why did you need to be drunk to say it?"

Pickles smirked and started to chuckle. "Well…pramise you won't get mad?"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Just say it."

"Well, yoo know how two days ago at the album release party, yoo were drinking and yoo said it was the worst fruit punch yoo've ever head?

"Yeah…?"

"That's because I pissed in it when yoo weren't looking," he snickered.

"WHAAAAAAAAAT?!" Pickles started to run away like a bat straight out of hell, laughing even harder.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

Nathan chased after him into the kitchen; he was about to go Hulk on his ass. After all this emotional turmoil, this crisis on whether or not he likes his friend _in that way_ , and that was all caused by Pickles feeling guilty that he pissed in his drink?! He caught up to him and almost grabbed his shoulder, but missed by a hair's breadth. Pickles ran to hide behind Charles, who had just walked in.

"Nathan, what's going on here?" he asked in the same deadpan voice he always has.

"He-he ruined, he made me-HE PISSED IN MY DRINK AND-"

"Uh, Nathan? Charles asked, trying to hide his grin with his hand.

"WHAT?"

"You've got some white stuff on your face, there."

The End.


	2. Chapter 2: The Trip Begins

Nathan just stared at Charles for a while; he made sure to do it with a scowl to let him know that he meant business. He finally decided that punching the manager in the face wasn't worth it.

"Uh, Nathan, did you-"

"YEAH, I HEARD YOU."

Nathan stomped off out of the kitchen. Pickles peered around the manager's shoulder.

"Dood, where ya goin'?"

"To go get my shit, alright?!"

"Stupid, fuckin' Charles, always in my business, GOD…" Nathan muttered as he shoved some clothes from his dresser into his suitcase. _I hope he never, ever finds out about me and Pickles._ He stopped. _There…really isn't any "white stuff" on my face, is there?_ He ran his fingers over his mouth and chin.

 _God-dangit._

Charles turned around to face the drummer.

"So, what's Nathan's problem, anyway? Were the two of you arguing about something?" he said, trying to talk over the noise of the others' whining and fighting.

Pickles shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "I guess yoo could say deat. Whatever."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Well…okay then." He turned to the other three. "What's the problem over here?"

Everyone stopped and stared at him. Charles looked at Murderface and he raised both eyebrows this time.

"William, what happened to your face?"

Murderface crossed his arms and pursed his lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he murmured, shrugging his shoulders.

Charles closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what, I don't want to know." He looked over them again and exhaled slowly. "Well, you boys behave yourselves. I'll see you in two weeks. Oh, and uh, William, don't do anything stupid," he said as he turned around and walked away.

Murderface turned to Skwisgaar and huffed, "Why doeschn't he ever tell anyone elsche that?"

Nathan came back out of his room and saw Pickles standing there.

"Took yoo lang enough," he said, frowning. "The plane's been waiting for ten minutes already."

Soon enough, they were sitting in their own private airplane and it took off. As soon as they were up in the air, Nathan decided to ask Pickles something.

"So, um, do we even know where we're going first? I know how you like to plan, Pickles. What I'm trying to say is that you don't," he said.

"Well, to be fair, yoo di'n't plean anything either," Pickles said matter-of-factly.

"Ugh," Nathan threw his head back on the headrest in frustration. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Pickles took out his phone and started to text, fingers flying across the keyboard. "I though deat we could just go wherever we wanted to go, yoo know? Like if we wanna stop somewhere, we could," he said, not looking up. "Today I though Manhattan sounded pretty interesting, so, deats where we're goin'." He smiled at his phone, still not looking up at all. "You can choose the next place, yoo know, if yoo wan' to," he continued absentmindedly.

Nathan stared at Pickles, who was still on his phone. _Rude_. He wanted nothing more at that moment then to rip it out of his hands and tell (maybe force) him to focus on having fun and spending quality time together (as friends of course). _Is he trying to ignore me? He better not be. Little fucker._ Nathan put his seat back and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. This feeling in his chest, he didn't like it. It felt physically heavy. He'd never felt this way before. Except for maybe that one time where… _no. I can't think about that._ He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the funny feeling in his chest. Soon enough, he fell asleep.

"My lords, we are here,"

"Uhhhn….what?" Nathan opened his eyes to see a Klokateer standing to his side.

"We have arrived in La Guardia airport in Manhattan, sire. Please return here when you both wish to leave."

Nathan rubbed his eyes. "Just give me a moment," he grunted.

"Yes, sire." The Klokateer turned on his heel and left.

After a minute or so of him trying to fully wake up, he felt something leaning against him and resting on his shoulder. Something rough yet fluffy was up against his cheek and rubbed against his upper arm. He turned his head gently to see what it was, but he already knew. Pickles must have fallen asleep and fell over onto him. _My God…_ His lips were slightly parted, and his face totally relaxed in a blissful state of slumber. For a fleeting second, the weight in his chest was lifted.

Pickles started to stir. "Nrrr…Nat'an?" he said softly. He opened his eyes slowly, then realized that he was resting his head on Nathan's shoulder, and pulled away quickly.

"I am so sarry…" he said, facing forward and smoothing down his dreads.

Nathan felt the burden inside his body come back. "I get it. You can't help what you do when you just…fall asleep on a plane…like...that," he stuttered. He unbuckled his seat belt and got his suitcase from overhead, and started to walk towards the exit, leaving Pickles behind. He went through the little tunnel and came out into the airport, which was bustling with people. A particularly tan girl stared at him with wide eyes. _Oh great, this better not be another crazy fan._

"Hey mista, why is your face so red?" she asked with a thick New York accent.

"Nothing! Nothing happened!" Nathan yelled, which attracted a few more stares. He could feel his face flush even more. Someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"What do you want?" Nathan growled, but when he turned around he could see it was just Pickles. "Hi," he continued.

Pickles smirked. "Are you ready to get this fucking party started?" he asked.

Nathan rolled his eyes. "It's one in the afternoon, are you crazy?" _I really hope he isn't noticing my face._

His friend laughed. "C'mon Nat'an, yoo've known me for a while. Of course I'm always down to drink!" He started to quickly walk away, pulling his rolling suitcase behind him. Nathan just stood there, biting his lip. Pickles turned around and motioned for Nathan to follow him. He did, but with reluctance.

When they finally got to the exit, Pickles ran up to the door and kicked it open. He went outside and immediately had to shield his eyes; the sun was right there and in your face, and damn was it roasting out there. It was a bad day to wear black shirts, but there they were.

"Let's drap off our stuff at the hotel first, then we cean have fun," Pickles said as he flipped through a map of Manhattan that he had in his pocket.

"And maybe change into some better clothes," Nathan complained. "Also, get a taxi. I'm not about to freaking walk."

"One step ahead of ya," Pickles said as he slammed the trunk of the taxi shut.

The ride was a long one. It was only half an hour, but still, it felt like forever. Pickles was looking out the window much like a little kid would, hands and face against the glass and everything. Nathan, however, stared straight ahead with his arms crossed.

"Ooo, Nat'an, look at that!" Pickles said excitedly. No response. "Nat'an?" He turned to face his friend and saw him pouting. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly. Nathan's mouth twitched at the corners.

"I really, uhm...don't like…New York," he said sternly.

Pickles narrowed his eyes. "You seemed to like it when we came here for the _Go Forth and Die_

Tour."

"Well I changed my mind, okay?!" Nathan yelled.

"Nat'an."

"What?!"

"I get it," Pickles said, sighing.

Nathan got concerned. "W-what do you mean, 'you get it'?"

Pickles frowned. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" Nathan exclaimed.

"Then what is it?" Pickles said angrily.

"I can't tell you."

Pickles scowled and folded his arms in a huff. "Fine. Whatever."

It felt like the pain in his heart had spread to the rest of his body. "Pickles, don't worry about it. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me." _A half-truth is better than no truth,_ Nathan reasoned.

Pickles face softened. "Are yoo okay?"

"…no."

"Yoo cean talk to me, we've been friends for so lang,"

"No."

"Yoo cean trust me, Nat'an, I-"

"No, Pickles. I just…no. Not while we're on this trip at least."

"Yoo just need a drink."

"Ugh…"

They reached their destination soon after; The Pierre, a beautiful luxury hotel right across from Central Park.

"Dood," Pickles said as they took their suitcases from the trunk. "This place is so feancy that yoo cean't even press the elevator button yourself; someone has to do it for yoo."

They walked up to the reservation desk. "Um, I booked a suite," Pickles said nervously.

The receptionist looked up over his wire frame glasses. "Name?"

"Pickles,"

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "…'Pickles'? That's your name?"

"Yeauh."

"Well, okay then…"

He typed something into the computer, and handed Pickles and Nathan each one room card. "Sanchez, please open the elevator for these two guests."

"Yes, sir," said Sanchez. He walked over to the elevator and pressed the 'up' button.

Nathan blinked. "Wow," he whispered to Pickles, "you weren't kidding."

"See? It isn't so bad," he smirked as they both stepped inside. Floor 7, Room 28, the cards read.

When they made their way to their room, both of them were amazed at how big it was. There was a living room with a leather couch and TV and a mini kitchen, and there were two separate bedrooms. Each bedroom had a king sized bed and their own TV as well. It was a very nice place, indeed.

Nathan tossed his suitcase onto his bed and started digging through his clothes. He was seeing nothing but black t-shirts and jeans. Great. Maybe there was something in there that was more weather appropriate, just maybe. Pickles was in his own room, also picking out something.

 _Freaking finally_. Nathan had found something other than a plain black t-shirt: a tweed gray t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a pair of camo shorts. Oh well, it was better than roasting like a pig on a spit all day. The tank top was a little tighter since the last time he wore it, which was back when… _he_ …was still in the band, and the shorts just barely fit. He wasn't about to go out there looking like Murderface, so he took off his traditional boots and put on a pair of ratty flip-flops. He stopped for a moment, thinking about something.

"Dood, hurry up. Don't you wanna go look around a bit?"

"Hold on a second," Nathan yelled as he pulled out his phone and opened the camera app. He winced at the sight of himself. _God, I look so fat._ "Whatever," he whispered out loud.

He opened the door to meet with his friend in the living room so they could go. But…this just made his whole situation more complicated.

Pickles apparently didn't totally let the Snakes N Barrels side of him go. He was wearing nothing on top but a fitted mesh shirt. The tight, faded jeans clung to his thighs and crotch, and they rode so low on his hips that Nathan thought they were going to fall off if it wasn't for that obnoxiously bright, studded belt. The same old red cowboy boots graced his feet. But what really got Nathan the most was his lime green eyes that were outlined with thick black eyeliner. Nathan's mind and heart were racing. His mouth went dry, but like before, well, you know.

"Pickles, what the hell are you wearing? You look like a hooker," Nathan scoffed. "A really creepy, skanky, 1980s hooker."

Pickles started to twirl a dread around his finger. "That's the point."

Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"Well, what aboat yoo? Yoo look like fookin' Murderface," Pickles grinned. "I mean, shorts? Really?" he snickered. Nathan noticed the laughter even spread to those eyes. They looked so kind. _Stop. Stop it. You already know what he said._

Nathan tried to laugh with him, but his sounded like nervous laughter, like the kind that happens when there is an awkward moment at a funeral. Pickles cocked his head and shot him a mischievous look. "Are yoo ready to start off this party?"

Nathan pushed his emotions to the back of his mind. "You're damn right I am!" he said with a smile.

Times Square was just as impressive in the daytime. People were crowded together, just trying to walk from place to place. Most were tourists, stopping to ooo and aaah at everything they saw. The two of them learned quickly that this place has a lot of attitude, but also a lot of fantastic and amazing things to offer. Pickles was one of those people who just had to stop and take a picture of every single thing that he saw that was different or weird. He was just bursting with joy and wonder at all of the new things he was seeing. Just seeing Pickles happy made Nathan happy. Maybe going to New York wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

After taking yet another picture of some Broadway signs, Pickles suddenly turned around and took Nathan by the wrist and started to drag him. Good thing Pickles couldn't see the flush on Nathan's face.

"Stop pulling. Where're we going?" he asked.

"Just hang an. I'm showing you where we're gonna get smashed," Pickles said.

They crossed the street (not without a few wary glances from taxi drivers), and stopped right in front of where they were to be going.

"The Hard Rock Café? Really?" Nathan rolled his eyes. "They have those, like, all over the place."

"It's my turn to choose, so don't whine aboat it, geez. You're picking the next place anyway." Pickles said while shifting his weight and crossing his arms. "Besides," he continued, "have you ever been to one before?"

"…no?"

"Me neither. So there yoo go." He looked down at his phone again. "Besides, it's not like it's the only bar we're goin' to. It's the first of many. And we still gat three hours left. Whaddya wanna do?"

"Well, we could walk down a bit and look at the Statue of Liberty or something."

It took them a while to walk down there. When they got to where the land met the water, Pickles leaned over the fence and shielded his eyes. "I can't even see it. It's either too small, or I'm just too short," he said, frustrated.

"You're not too short!" Nathan yelled. Pickles gave him a funny look. "I mean, um, here, let me just…" he picked up his friend by placing his hands on the little curve right above his hips. "Can you…see it now?" Nathan asked softly.

"Sort of," Pickles said. "I think it's just too far-" he turned to face Nathan. "…-away." Pickles broke the gaze between them and looked back out to the water. Both of them just frozen in time, Nathan holding him by the waist, looking out at the water, the boats, the city-scape across. But Pickles was starting to figure what was up. He didn't stop it, however, but it felt wrong. So wrong.

Nathan loved that small waist, the way it felt between his fingers. His soft, pale skin visible through the netted shirt, God, everything from last night was coming back into focus. He wanted to feel that body again, but- _you need to stop. No. Stop it. Let go of him right now._ "Did you want to get going, or…" Nathan asked out loud. "…it'll take a long time to walk back, I mean-"

"Yeauh," Pickles said, not really paying attention. He was thinking about something else.

"Okay." Nathan gently put him down, Pickles' boots making a small **clack** on the cement.

By the time they walked back to The Hard Rock, it was about 5:25. When they entered the bar area, Pickles whined almost as soon as they got there. "I knew we shouldn't've stapped all the way out dere! Now we're freakin' late!"

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Pickles, calm down, it's fine, okay? It's only by like, what, half an hour or something. What, you got somewhere else to be?"

Pickles ignored him. "We actually might've been here an time if you hadn't've stapped at that one store. Gaaad…"

"Well, they were the only place with a bathroom around here," Nathan retorted.

"Yoo couldn't've waited?"

"No."

"Ugh."

They sat down at a booth in a corner. Pickles got a margarita, and Nathan got whiskey and coke. Pretty standard. Nathan stirred his drink as he thought of something to say. He was going to be with this man, alone, for two weeks. Two weeks. Once that thought sunk it, it started to feel like an anvil hit him. Watching Pickles sip his drink, holding the straw between his thumb and index finger. It was so attractive, reminding him of the way he would twist his dreads, which gave him images in his head. _Is this…lust?_

He decided to break the silence by asking Pickles if he remembered the time when the two of them were pulling pranks on Murderface for almost an entire day.

"Of course I remember!" Pickles said excitedly with a big smile. "Remember when you threw that firecracker in his face?"

Nathan laughed. "That was hilarious! But remember the time when he pissed himself after I shocked him, and you were all like-"

"I think you're the culprit in this particular mystery!" They both said at the same time, and started laughing. _Or maybe it's…love._ Nathan could feel his heart almost burst. That man's laugh was so sweet, yet mischievous.

The drummer's eyes sparkled. "Good memories," he sighed.

Nathan had to turn away, at least for a bit, or it was going to seem creepy. He looked off at nowhere in particular, but he saw something that made him freeze up. He could've swore his heart had stopped for a split second. There was a man sitting right at the bar area, sipping on a dark drink, with dark brown wavy hair. _It couldn't possibly be-_

The stranger turned slightly to reveal a quite familiar gaunt face, the streaks of white in his hair and beard now visible, and the telltale blind eye.

 _-Magnus Hammersmith._


End file.
